


A Thorn in the Manuscript

by CelticGHardy



Series: Family Path of Blood [3]
Category: The Following
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticGHardy/pseuds/CelticGHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>If Joe cannot have his son....</i><br/>  <br/><i>then Ryan cannot have his.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alternate Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I have a crappy brain. And literally, the Joe in my brain, the one that's really, really evil and has started teaming up with the Master (well, not truly, it's either he is him or they're having tea) said _If I cannot have my son, than Ryan cannot have his._.
> 
> And it spawned into this.
> 
> Divergent of [this chapter.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/829272/chapters/1889584)

He was going to get his son back.

Nothing would stop him. Roderick would not be able to stop him. He would take pride in strangling the life out of Roderick before taking his son home. He should have realized his time as the leader of the group was coming to an end. Insubordination would not be tolerated. “I'll go myself,” he stated, “The FBI's all over town.”

Jacob stopped him, “No, you can't risk that. I should go; Joey knows me.”

Damn, he doesn't like that. It would be too much of a risk to go out. Even if he could get rid of Roderick and satisfy himself. He'll have to hope that Jacob brings his son back. “Jacob, do you know Michael and Ethan?”

“We've met.”

He addressed the men. “Jacob has developed a strong rapport with my son, so he'll be going with you to find Roderick.” 

“Well, he's a wanted man,” one pointed out, “There's no place for him to hide in this town. He'll try to run; he'll use back roads with smaller roadblocks. He's got multiple fake IDs.”

“Well, I want you to start with Ryan Hardy. If anyone will know how to find Roderick, it will be him. Please bring my son back, and kill Roderick. He's betrayed us, make him suffer if you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Also, if you cannot get Joey back, please bring Agent Weston here, relatively unharmed,” he ordered, passing over one of the smaller photos of his FBI ID photo.

He looked at it a few minutes to memorize it. “Understood,” he agreed, passing the photo around. Jacob was the last to see it, passing it back to him before leaving with the other two.

_If I cannot have my son, Ryan, then you cannot have yours._

-

It was probably a terrible thing to leave Joey in that room all by himself, but Mike needed to secure the area. He knew there had to be at least two, if not more wandering around, trying to get Joey back. By that thought alone, he should go back, grab Joey and just run to the cars, start one up and go back to the station. His job was to arrest the followers, and he wouldn't let Ryan stay by himself against them.

Immediately outside of the room, he was attacked. One hand covered his mouth while an arm circled his neck, holding a knife and pressing it tightly against. His gun had been lost as some point and he was left without a ready defense. “We're supposed to get the kid back,” his attacker hissed, “But I know Wells. Too much of a soft heart. So, I'm just going to prepare for the inevitable.” The hand was removed, but he couldn't call out with the threat of the knife. The man's gun was shoved into his ribs, then the knife disappeared. “Start walking.”

They both stumbled as the man forced Mike toward a point hundreds of yards away. After a few minutes, Jacob joined them. Both saw that Joey wasn't around. “Take your gun out,” he motioned, letting go of Mike. With both pointing guns at him, he had to go where they led him.

They got to a waiting car with another person behind the wheel.“Kidnapping a federal agent? Your buddies tried that once; it's not going to get any better the second time,” Mike tried reasoning, “Leave me here, drive off. You'll have a head start of a few minutes.”

“Shut up!” Jacob yelled. The other man placed his gun back and patted Mike down, finding numerous items and throwing many on the ground. His cell phone was kept, although the battery was knocked out. His badge was pocketed, so was his wallet.

“Take your jacket off,” he ordered.

“Dinner first,” he threw back. The punch to his jaw was expected, but the second blow to his chest wasn't, and he collapsed to his knees while gasping for breath against the immense pain.

“Jacket off, now!” The movement stretched the wound, but he managed to get it off. That was the last thing he needed, and Mike had his arms bound behind him with another zip cuff like Joe used before. Dragged back to his feet, a bag was thrown over his head before he was pushed into the back of the car. He couldn't tell who got in with him, but a gun was dug into his ribs. He figured it was the other guy.

 _I'll be fine. I'll be fine. He's doing this in retribution but he's not going to kill me yet. Oh god, I hope not._ He felt the car moved and wondered what was going to happen when it ended.

-

Ryan walked back to the house, now surrounded by flashing lights. Turner immediately stepped up to take Joey, and the child clung to Ryan tighter. “Hey, hey,” he coaxed, “It's all right. He's a good guy, too.”

He looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, he was one of the guys I worked with to put your Dad away,” he assured, “He was also protecting your Mom and you at your house.” He finally managed to get Joey to accept Turner and the two of them joined a few other Marshals to drive him back to the station.

Parker ran up to him. “Where's Mike?” she questioned.

“I don't know,” he shook his head, “I went after Wells; he's probably still in the house.”

“He's not,” she insisted, “And he's not answering his phone. This was in one of the rooms.” She held up his gun.

“He's fine; there's no reason for Joe to...”

“He knows you're his father; that is a major reason for him to go after Mike,” she argued, “And he said himself he's petty. He doesn't have Joey back; he would think to take Mike in retaliation.”

“We can't think like that,” he stopped, “Let's check out the entire area. Make sure he didn't have to stop.”

She nodded, directing agents to search for Mike in the woods. Both grabbed flashlights to do the same. After a few minutes of finding and losing trails, they managed to pick up on that lead to a secondary road. Several items were skewed all over, the FBI jacket the biggest and most telling. “I knew it,” she muttered, “I knew it; I knew it.”

“Hey,” he steadied, stopping her pacing, “Joe won't hurt him.”

“Don't you dare try to tell me that,” she raged, “He had him kidnapped; he held him hostage in the damn room....”

“He won't do anything now,” he reasoned, “It's a power play. He can't have Joey; we can't have Mike. We won't do anything to Joey; he's not going to do anything to him.” Debra glared at him, about ready to punch him. “We're going to get him back, alive and mostly unharmed. Because he won't be able to keep himself from not doing anything to stop Joe.” She laughed, repressed sobs making it wet. He hugged her tightly, rocking a tiny bit back and forth. “We'll get him back.”

“I really wish I could believe it,” she said.

“I did it before; I'll do it again. I'll get him back to us safe.”

-

The car finally stopped, and the person in the back with Mike pulled him out. The bag was ripped off with a terrible flourish. The building was large, and walking inside, he saw several people walking around. He barely got a good look before being forced up stairs and directed into a large study, where Joe was behind a computer, typing furiously.

“Sir,” one approached cautiously. He looked up to see the three standing just inside the door. He frowned when he realized they hadn't gotten his son back. Apparently, it would be a rewrite into the chapter, and he had just gotten into a rhythm. Mike didn't like it when he targeted him. “Do you want him here or....?”

“Hello, Michael. I have no use for him at the moment,” he dismissed, “Take him to the prepared room.” The two nodded and forced him down a few halls before they finally stopped in front of an empty room. It had to be one on the highest level, a large drop down. One of them removed the cuff before pushing him into the room and hurried out, shutting and locking the door.

“No!” he shouted, throwing himself against it and trying to dislodge them before they could lock the mechanism in place. When it didn't work, he just tried breaking it. The door frame and the wood had been constructed well, not even a small amount of give. He moved over to the windows and saw the mechanism to open them had been removed. Breaking might have been an option, but it was still a long drop. He checked the sheets on the bed and thought about possibly ripping them up and tying them to create a bad rope partway down. He checked outside again and saw several people wondering around, specifically looking up at times and seeing him. Even if he could break the window and make a bed sheet rope, there were people on the ground that would bring him back in. Joe wouldn't be as nice around the second time.

Escape wasn't an option, so he started looking for weapons. The bed was completely attached; he couldn't break anything off. There wasn't a closet. The bathroom had a sink with locked off plumbing and a toilet without a showing tank, so he couldn't take the top of it off. Same with the shower. No mirror. He moved back into the main room.

 _I'm useless._ He collapsed on the bed, old memories coming up. It made him anxious, nauseous. _No, no no, stop that, stop that._ He then realized his back was to the door. He switched so he could face whoever came in. He forced himself to keep calm and try to figure out if there was any way of sneaking off or getting a call out to Dad or Mom in the future.

He caught a woman screaming faintly. He moved over to the door to try and listen in to the chaos outside. 'She stabbed Joe.' _Someone stabbed him. Who?_ 'Someone get Maeve.' There wasn't anything else he could make out. The screaming got closer, and he barely recognized it as Claire Matthews. _She stabbed Joe. Fuck. What the hell does this change now?_

-

Ryan arrived back at the station and went straight to Joey. Turner barely kept him from freaking out, and he calmed down a lot when Ryan walked into the room. They had gotten him some drinks and a couple of things to snack on while they evaluated his health. After they left for paperwork and question lists, he turned to him. “Where's Agent Weston?” he asked.

He was surprised at the question, and it was one he didn't know how to answer. He wouldn't lie to him. “He.... the guys that came to bring you back to your Dad,” he determined, “When they couldn't bring you....”

“They took him,” Joey finished. “Is it because he's your son? Mom said that he was.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“Oh.” The marshals came back and he stayed to help ask the questions, figuring out what he was trying to explain. He got the general description of where he had been staying for the last few weeks before going to the computer lab, where he explained to a few agents over what was happening. They started putting in the information and figuring out places that fit.

When his phone rang, he looked down and saw the blocked number and knew. “Yeah?”

“Hello, Ryan,” he greeted. Before he could even get in a word, _something's wrong; something's off. This isn't just losing Joey._ “Michael is unharmed. Unfortunately, he was sent to his room without dinner, so he's possibly a little hungry.”

 _Yeah, because that's what I'm worried about, Joe._ “How are you?” he questioned.

“Not terribly well. Actually, Ryan, I'm sorry- I'm sorry to say that our story has taken an unexpected turn. Even more than the switch in custody of our sons,” he explained.

 _What is it?_ “What happened, Joe? You don't sound so good.”

“No, it's, it's bad, Ryan. It's really bad; it's a complete rewrite. But if we have to, we have to. You know, it's a nuisance, but there we are, suffice to say, Ryan. It, it has not been a very good day for either of us.”

 _This isn't about Joey. Something else happened. The only other factor is Claire._ “What happened with Claire?”

He laughed, thinking it was funny. “It has transpired that Claire is no longer our leading lady. No, she will not be riding off in the sunset with me, nor you. Sadly, it is time for Claire to die.” He hung up.

Ryan collapsed in the nearest chair. Claire had done something unforgivable to Joe, and she was going to pay for it with her life. He was worried for the both of them. If he tried to kill Claire, Mike will stop him if he could. Which meant he could get severely hurt or murdered by Joe. _Mike, please don't do anything stupid._


	2. An End to Joe's Fiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe takes Claire and MIke and runs. Ryan and Parker try to stop so much bloodshed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad the episodes are back up. Hopefully, I can get these done before Final Chapter gets swiped out from under my feet.

Mike groaned at the sunlight filtering in through the window. He had forced him asleep to try and make sure he wouldn't be fighting to keep himself awake for whatever Joe had planned. Now he just had to contend with his hunger, which wasn't helped by the fact he could smell various breakfast foods. _Strawberry pancakes with chocolate and whipped cream. Wonder if I get Mom to make me some?_

“Who is Drake?” a curious voice inquired. Startled, he forced himself against the wall to see Joe, leaning against the wall. He could see the man was in pain, the left side of his shirt starting to show the blood still seeping. He saw it caught his attention. “Yes, Claire's attempt to kill me. Now, who is Drake?”

“My dog,” he muttered, acutely aware of his stabbing wound from moving too fast.

“Oh,” he commented. “Yes, well. We're going to be leaving within the hour. I'm sorry we couldn't get you something to eat beforehand, but time is of the essence. You need to take a shower and change.” He pointed to the small pile of new clothing and soap at the foot of his bed. “I noticed you're wearing the same clothes I last saw you in. And I doubt you've taken a shower. I wish for you to do so.” He left before Mike could argue back about any of it.

_Great, there go my clothes._ He had no doubt that Joe would have gotten a couple of people to force him in the shower if he didn't do it himself. Along with the soap, he found ointment and gauze pads. _At least he remembered about that. That would have been embarrassing to ask for._ It took about thirty minutes to carefully shower, making sure he didn't reopen anything or destroy his stitches.

In about the only fit of inspiration he could think of, he started writing on the walls of the shower with the soap, making sure his words were legible and clean, so they wouldn't show up unless someone was looking for it. He used his nail to carve an arrow into the soap and pointed it at the wall. _I hope they find that._

Once finished getting ready, there was two people already waiting. One held a length of rope that ended up tying his hands together in the front while the other kept back, gun in hand to stop him if necessary. Led outside, he wondered where all the people had disappeared to until he saw they were getting ready to leave. He saw a few going into the study, where Joe was apparently waiting.

Another car was stationed to go in a different direction. He saw there were two people guarding and they were joined by their friends while Mike was pushed in beside Claire Matthews. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “I'm sorry. I didn't think he would kidnap you in retaliation.”

“It's fine,” he stopped, seeing Emma, Jacob and Joe walk out of the building and dismiss their guards. Emma chose to drive while Joe took the passenger seat, leaving Jacob in the back, holding a gun on Claire to keep Mike in line. She drove off, leaving the house far behind.

-

Ryan watched them break down the gate. They had finally found where Joe had been hiding all this time and he didn't know how to react. He should be joyous in finding the damn place, but he knew nothing would be there. No Claire, No Mike. Most of the agents paused upon seeing the hung body. The badge on the man was out of place, but familiar. “That's Mike's badge,” Parker confirmed. After the body was wheeled out, agents started searching everywhere for any clues. “He's saying he's still in control.”

“He thinks he's in control. He's lost Joey; he's lost Claire. It's messing with him.”

“Do you think he's still here? In town?” she asked, “Is he still here?”

“Yeah, but he's running.”

“And he's taking Mike and Claire with him,” she mumbled.

The two of them were interrupted by Mitchell. “We found a room with Mike's clothing. We think he was kept there.” The two followed her up to the third floor. The clothes were laid out on the bed, checked over already by techs for anything that could have been hidden. Ryan walked in further, going over the clothes again, remembering his old ways of hiding money and items he didn't want either of them finding. Parker could barely watch, so she turned to the bathroom. A trash near the sink held old gauze pads. Seeing the soap and following its direction, she caught a glimpse of something. Realizing what it was, she asked for a reactionary agent for the soap, to force it to show up.

“What is it?” he inquired, coming up behind her with nothing for his efforts.

She stepped out of the way for the tech to spray the wall and hold up a black light, illuminating words. “I'm fine,” she read, “Claire stabbed Joe.”

“He's fine,” he repeated, then realized what Mike was telling them. “She stabbed Joe. He's mad at her. She ruined his fictional version of their perfect life.”

“Mike will try to stop it anyway he can.”

“Then Joe will refocus his attention on him,” he worried, “I don't know what's going to happen if he does that.” Unable to do much else, they walked back down and found his study. The book was an uneasy prophecy laying on the desk. Claire's photo was covered in blood, Joe's most likely.

“He hasn't killed her yet,” Parker pointed out after studying the note Joe left behind. “He wants you to play hero to stop him.”

“He's going to give me the opportunity to watch her die.”

“Only if we let him,” she insisted.

-

Mike didn't recognize anything they were going past. No one talked. Emma kept to roads that weren't frequented as much, avoiding blocks as often as possible. It took an hour to end up at someone's house. Joe took the front door, holding Claire close. Emma and Jacob went to the garage to secure the area. Jacob had switched the gun onto Mike and he was forced behind her while she went first.

The garage door opened to the apparent killers' surprise. A woman stared at the three of them, but ran when Emma went to shoot her. She went after her and pounded on the door when she managed to lock it behind her and escape. _Outsmarted by a civilian._ Mike almost let an amused smile on his face, but kept it hidden when she turned back to them. She led them to the same way Joe went in, where he was standing over a man while his wife stared in suspense.

Claire was forced into a single chair, and another chair was brought next to her to sit Mike into it. Joe tied up the couple. He improvised when he ran out of normal methods. Tying the ankles, the wife made a sound of discomfort and he tried to help her. Joe pointed a knife before he was able to do anything. “Easy, tiger,” he said, “Don't play the hero.” Getting up, he grunted at the pain of the wound. “Now, I do realize that this is, uh, this is something of an imposition. We will only be requiring your hospitality until nightfall,” he explained. He poured some alcohol into a glass and sat back down, sighing as he became more comfortable. “Ahh, what is it you do for a living, Phil?”

“Mortgage broker,” he answered.

“Ooh, that can't be going too well.”

“It's picked up,” he replied.

“Has it?”

Claire interrupted, “Don't do this, Joe.”

“Don't do what?” he asked innocently.

“Don't do this; don't terrorize them like this,”she implored.

“This is my wife, the martyr.”

“She's your ex-wife,” Mike reminded.

“She takes care of everyone,” he continued, “Except me.”

“You choked her when you were supposedly still in love with her,” he mentioned, “I think that gives her a reason.”

“Agent Michael Weston,” he pointed out, finishing off the drink in his hand. “The son of our protagonist. Unfortunately, he gets just a little too much from his father.” He stood up and moved over to threaten him, using the knife to force his head up and look at him. “Be quiet. Children should be seen and not heard.”

“I doubt you would say that about Joey,” he challenged. The knife flipping to the handle and hitting him in the face again was almost a repeat of the time before. He didn't feel any blood dripping down as he slumped in the chair. _At least it didn't reopen the scab._ Claire gently brought his head up so she could see if anything was wrong. “I'm fine,” he tried placating, ignoring the throbbing it had created.

“We were having a nice conversation,” he berated. Joe sat back down, the husband and wife staring in fear between the three. Mike glared at Joe when he sat back down, his glass replenished. “You two ruined it.”

The man was then in the mood to entertain. Emma and Jacob were brought back in to help get the group to the dining table. Joe had shut himself in the kitchen, making something on the stove. The couple were across from Claire and Mike. The head of the table was left for the other man. Whatever he was making didn't take long before he announced, “Dinner, almost ready.”

“Is he going to kill us?” Vicky asked, staring at them.

“I'm not going to let that happen,” Claire told them.

“How are you going to stop him? He's crazy,” Phil insisted.

“We will get you out of here,” Mike voiced, “Just stay calm until something can be figured out.”

“Follow my lead,” she added.

Joe came out, which made them stop. “What were we talking about?” he inquired.

“I was just telling Phil and Vicky that you're not going to hurt them,” she said. “I promised them.”

He looked puzzled while he started portioning pasta out, questioning, “Why on earth would you make a promise you cannot keep?”

“Well, because they can help you. They can serve a purpose.” She watched him walk around to get everywhere. “You can give them a message, and they can go to the FBI and speak with them.”

“You mean, a message for Ryan?”

“Yeah. Tell him how you're going to kill me.” He set down the bowl in between them, listening to her. “That is the final chapter. He needs to know the plan, and these folks can be your messengers.”

“I've already dealt with that, my love,” he told her, “Ryan knows I'm going to kill you. Well, I've already delivered all of my messages, and besides, Ryan is about to have- excuse me.” He set down the bowl and sat at his place. “A very busy few hours for himself and Agent Parker” he pointed at Mike, “But I do think it is terribly sweet that you're trying to save their lives. Oh, well, let's eat while it's hot. I am ravenous.” Mike looked down at the pasta. It smelt good; he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. “Oh, Phil, Parmesan?” The look he gave to the other man made him lose most of his appetite.

No one was eating, but Joe seemed happy anyway. He pulled the wine down and started to try and open it. “You remember those, those hideous faculty parties that we had to suffer through-” He wasn't getting enough leverage, and stood up to try and get the cork out. “Boring, long, stuffy? You hated them. Ow.”

Claire offered to help, “Joe, you're in pain, let me do it.” He tilted his head at her suggestion. “Yes, you would have to untie me. Come on.”

“Can I trust you, though, Claire?” The two of them stared for a second. He didn't trust her. “What do you think, Phil? Can I trust her?”

“Let me.”

“Fine,” he relented, “Just remember who else is here.” He threw a meaningful glance at Mike before cutting her bonds. “Thank you.” He handed her the bottle. She worked the mechanism to get it out. “Tell me, Phil, you trust your wife? Hmm?” She popped the bottle open and set it back on the table.

“Yes, I do.” He noticed her working with the corkscrew. He made a noise and motioned for it. Mike watched with a disinterested eye. _Yeah, because that's the weapon she would use._ She handed it back to him. “Thank you.” He turned back. “Do you love your wife?”

“Yes, I do very much.”

Claire poured some wine into a couple of glasses. “And would you die for her?”

“Joe, stop it.”

“Oh, just serve the wine, Claire.”

“And you wonder why your wife hates you,” Mike quipped.

He turned over to him. “Do shut up and eat.” He hadn't gotten an answer from the man, so he threatened him with the knife he still had.

“Joe.”

“Knock it off,” Mike said.

“Would you die for your wife?”

“Yes,” he answered, fearful. “Yes I would. Please. You can kill me; you can do whatever you want. Just let her go.”

“Do you hear that, Vicky? This man would die for you,” he reiterated, taking away the knife. “And you him, I imagine? Hmm?” He leaned closer to his former wife. “You hear that, Claire? That is love you hear.”

“It's fear,” Mike disagreed.

“That is marriage vows at work. You see, Claire, of course, doesn't understand the whole 'Death do us part' bit, but she will. She will.”

“She divorced you,” Mike argued, “She didn't marry a murderer or an abuser.” The man glared at him. “Controlling your partner's every movement, limited contact on who they talk to...”

“Shut up.” He would have continued, except Claire placed a warning hand on his arm to stop his rant. He apparently like what she did. “Why don't you eat your food? Have a glass of wine, enjoy the charming company?” he praised, then turning to Claire. “Because this will be your last supper.”

The doorbell ringing caught all of their attentions, shooting up to see what was going on. Nobody did anything when Emma showed herself from the hall. “Stay here,” she ordered, walking back.

Someone shouted for someone to answer. Phil almost did, before Joe brought him back. “No, no. You're going to have to keep very, very quiet.”

Mike interrupted, “You should have let him go.” Joe turned to him, annoyed. “If it's the police, they'll know who's supposed to live here. If they answer the door, they'll know something wrong.” Not like his opinion mattered, after they heard two gunshots indicating someone died. “Now you've just alerted them to where you are.”

He apparently knew that and was going to talk to them, standing up. “Don't you move,” he commanded. He settled on everyone to make his message get across. Satisfied, he turned around to talk with Emma and Jacob. Claire picked up the wine bottle and smashed him over the head, the contents spilling everywhere. She then grabbed her fork off the table and stabbed him with it.

Mike grabbed his knife and cut their bonds before ushering Phil and Vicky up and out the door, focused on getting them outside. He watched Claire kick him to keep him down. “Let's go,” he urged, cutting his own bonds and making her go ahead before following.

-

Parker walked out with Ryan when they saw the crowd gathering in front of the station. Media was swarming around, along with citizens that were trying to get answers as to why they haven't seen their police forces and where are the cult and why are they taking so long? She did the exact same thing he was doing. Both knew there were members now scattered among the innocent people.

She noticed the woman giving the interview before Ryan did. “She's quoting Poe,” she muttered. The man swerved in front of Ryan, making him realize something was about to happen. Both made their way over when the young woman stabbed the reporter. Parker made the arrest while Ryan directed two others to try and stop the bleeding. A couple of medics took only a minute to show up before a bus came and carted the woman to the nearest hospital.

Their attacker was escorted inside and placed within the interrogation room. She went to the viewing room while Ryan walked in. The woman's focus was on Annabel Lee, clearly a story meant to be connected to Claire, that and the Red Death, which she had been quoting to the reporter. Nothing for Mike. _I hope that's a good thing. I hope he doesn't do anything to Mike._

“Mask of the Red Death keeps coming up,” Ryan pointed out after leaving 'Annabel' in the interrogation room. “Joe left it behind as a clue. She quoted it.”

“Mask of the Red Death,” Parker motioned, “There was a plague in a city, citizens took refuge in the walled palace.”

“Death found them anyway,” he finished, “So what are they planning? A group suicide, a mass murder, what?”

“Okay, metaphor land with Joe,” she muttered, Ryan looking over at her when she went off like that. “The cult's the plague....”

“The red death killed people that feared it,” he paraphrased, “Who sought safety and refuge.”

“The evacuation center,” she figured, “There's your palace, the people seeking safety. I should alert Turner.”

“It's not his ending,” Ryan brought up, “He's got something else planned, this isn't the finale.”

“I agree, but right now, we need to go to the center.”

The center was already busy when the agents made their way down there. Parker gave them the rundown, about a hundred within the gymnasium. Among them were Joe's followers, indeterminate amount. They didn't know if people were who they say they were or not. Search for suspicious behavior, double up. They entered in front of the other agents.

Parker stayed near Ryan, going through the crowd, trying to see something that seemed off. Someone too happy, too nervous, acting wrong for the situation around them. Ryan was the first one to see the man from outside the police station that day. “Two o'clock, black hair and jacket,” he noted.

“He's the leader,” she agreed. They tried getting closer, but he moved over to the stage. He smirked at them before throwing his hands up. A few seconds, the lights went off and fire alarms started blaring. Parker looked around and found Turner in the bare lights, nodding at him once. He started motioning to the other agents, having them check people before letting them out.

Ryan noticed a woman staggering and ran over to see blood pouring out of her scalps. “Debra!” he called over. She saw it as well and started calling for multiple ambulances, getting several from surrounding counties to meet up with the possible demand. She jerked up to see someone coming at her with a hatchet and she fired three times before finally falling the man. Unable to do anything else where she was, she moved out of the gym and started going down halls, checking rooms.

“Parker,” Ryan hissed, running into her after she shot a follower.

“Anything on the leader?”

“Nothing.” The two of them kept together. Checking rooms, they came across a large area with several rooms and hallways leading off. “There is no way we're splitting.” Privately, she agreed, even though training said they should split to cover more. The two of them made it slowly through. Parker went a small amount ahead and saw someone rise to her right.

Distracted, the person behind her grabbed her, causing her to drop her gun. Ryan shot twice at the man, forcing him to let go as the bullets went into his shoulder. She dived for her gun and shot the second man to bring him down. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she stated, keeping her gun close and held tightly to not lose it again. She checked over the man Ryan had shot and saw he was still breathing, clutching his arm in pain. “I don't have anything to bind him with.”

“I'll get a SWAT pair to escort him out. We need to find out what he was supposed to do.”

-

The group had been running for ages, trying to find the house the couple said was on the other side of the woods. They came upon a road with a car coming down it. Claire tried to wave it down. “That's our car, it's them,” Phil panted.

“Go!” Mike forced, making sure they were ahead of him before running himself. They weren't getting very far before Jacob and Emma got out. “Keep going,” he decided, turning around to face them.

“No!” she disagreed.

“I am an agent; it is my job to protect you,” he reminded, pushing her after them. He made sure Claire was running and they were dragging her along before turning back. He punched Jacob before Emma let off a shot that grazed his arm. Jacob was then able to bring him down, holding his arms behind his back.

“What about them?” Jacob asked, nodding off to the retreating trio. “He wanted Claire back. Maybe she'll come back if his life's in danger.”

In pain, Mike shouted, “Don't you dare come back!” Annoyed, Jacob punched him. He groaned, slumping on the ground.

“We don't have time,” Emma reminded, keeping the gun pointed at Mike while Jacob forced him up and dragged him back. He was forced in the back of the car, Jacob retied his wrists before sitting upfront. They ended up driving to a private pier after a few minutes. _Fuck, he's leaving by sea._

Joe popped out from behind some wrapped up item. “You found her?” he inquired.

“We saw her, but we knew we were running out of time,” Emma explained.

He walked over and saw Mike sitting in the back seat, who just glared up at him. He noted the graze wound and figured on sparing some gauze. “Up.” He pulled him out and forced him ahead, purposely pressing on the wound to keep him from fighting back. “Now the place where we're going was meant more for Claire, your father and I, but that apparently will not come to be,” he mentioned, moving him over the small bridge and farther in.

“The coast guard will be monitoring everything,” Mike brought up, “Agent Parker will have ordered that as soon as they got to the house. You won't be able to get far.”

“One boat out of many, they won't notice. And I doubt Agent Parker will be able to do much from her current predicament.” They got to the apparent vessel, which Joe made him board. “If you're quiet, I may patch up the hole in your arm without hurting you too much.” He pushed him into the small room before locking the door before heading up to start the boat.

Mike looked around for anything he could use. However, it seemed to be a follower's job to get rid of anything that could have been used to escape, attack or call for help. The only things left unlocked were places to sit and a TV that was unplugged. _What did he mean by current predicament? What did he plan?_ He collapsed on one of the seats, breathing through a small build of anxiety. He felt the boat roar to life and saw the pier getting small as they moved away. _I hope we get stopped by a couple of Coast Guard boats that shoot you on sight, you fucking jackass. Otherwise, I will find a way to finish what Claire started if anything happens to Mom._

-

The leader was in their custody. The two agents and consultant thought it was the brightest point of the night. The five causalities and cult member deaths spread fast throughout the community. Several people wondered why the place the mayor had designated as safe wasn't.

Ryan was talking to Parker over when they could interrogate the man. Apparently, it might have been cruel and unusual for them to attempt while he was bleeding out. With basic medical attention, he would be ready in the morning. The two wondered what their plan had been with her when his phone started ringing. He check. It wasn't a blocked number, but it wasn't one he recognized either. “Hello?” he answered warily.

“Oh, thank god, Ryan,” Claire breathed.

“Claire!” He attracted the attention of Parker and Turner. “Where are you?”

“I'm at a house. I don't know the address, I can ask the owners.”

“You're all right?” he inquired.

“I'm fine, mostly. I'm sorry, Ryan; Joe still has Mike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has the good part of the AU. Parker!


	3. Joe's Try at a Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break in the plan leads to some necessary twists. Joe wants information. Ryan and Parker want Mike back. Mike wants away from Joe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this ended up more that the original. No clue why.

Parker and Ryan headed in early to interrogate the man they had captured. Turner was waiting for them before they entered. “Claire's been reunited with Joey and her mother. They're in witness protection for the foreseeable future,” he reported. “She wanted to talk to you, but we needed to rush her out.”

Ryan nodded, looking into the interrogation room. “Who do we have?” he inquired.

“His name's Alex Lipton, former army sniper and another Freedom Thirteen member,” he said, “He's not talking. We don't know what the plan was for Parker.” They looked at each other before walking into the interrogation room. 

The man didn't even bother looking up when they sat down across from him. “So, Joe wanted you to do something to Agent Parker,” Ryan started out, “That didn't quite work out. What was the plan?”

He doesn't even look up, keeping his stare on the table. “What was the plan for me?” Parker asked. The man only looked up at her, possibly thinking on what was supposed to happen, and smiled darkly at whatever he was imagining. It unnerved her, but she tried getting deeper into it, even using his reaction. “Whatever it was must have been interesting. It must also be important to the plan, to Joe's book.”

That got a reaction. It was similar to guilt. He hasn't done his part in the plan. “She's right; the plan's gone wrong,” he built on, “Whatever you had been planning, whatever messages you need to pass along, they haven't happened. They're waiting on your word that whatever you've done to start the next page. So what were you supposed to do?”

He still wasn't talking, but there was definite guilt on his face. Ruining Joe's plan wasn't a good thing. If Ryan didn't make it to the meeting between him and his ex-wife, Joe would not be happy. “You know, maybe we should go back out. Maybe your buddy could give us some information,” he lied, “Just got out of surgery. Wonder if the doctors will wake him up for us.”

“He doesn't know,” Alex revealed.

Finally, he spoke. It wasn't good though. If Alex didn't talk about what Joe's plan was, then they couldn't get Mike back. _Maybe that's the point. Joe just keeps Mike forever. I cannot think like that. I should not think like that._ “So you do,” Parker tried reaching, “What was your part in the plan? What were you supposed to do to me?” Alex didn't answer her, just smiled at the possible same thought.

They both walked out to gather with Turner after he interrupted. “According to some information that we got from Claire, we think he would have been calling Emma Hill. It seems she took the place of Roderick as his second in command,” he expostulated.

“So she's waiting for a call that'll never come,” Ryan frowned.

“We need to get him to take us where he was supposed to take me,” Parker debated.

“He's not cooperating now,” Turner brought up.

“We were close, mentioning Joe's story, the fact that it's not on track. We convince him to lead us to it, to continue without interruption,” she debated. “It would probably work better if I was the only one in there. Play on his guilt. Get him to confess what was supposed to happen.”

Ryan didn't like the fact she was going to do this be herself. She would play on his guilt, but whatever the plan was also making him happy. Having her in there alone may not work. “Don't agree to anything.”

“I have been doing this for a while,” she shrugged off. He backed off while she walked back in.

“No Ryan?”

“Not at the moment. He's worried. I actually have a few questions on how this is supposed to originally work. You get me to wherever you were planning to take me. Would you then call Emma Hill?” He glanced at her, about the closest she was going to an answer. “So you call Emma, tell her your part's done.”

“Not all of it,” he corrected. 

Success. He just admitted to something. “All right, there was a plan about me, you would call her,” she led, “Something would activate the next part of the plan. Where would you have been?”

“Waiting.”

“Waiting for whom?”

He looked over to the mirror, where Turner and Ryan were watching. “The agents, marshals.” She waited a beat. “Ryan. Where would you have been waiting for them?”

He glanced at her before staring at the table again. He didn't want to tell what was supposed to happen. She walked out after a minute, waiting for anything else. “I don't think we're going to get anything from him,” she lamented. “Unless Joe knows what happened, we're stuck trying to get answers from him.”

“We'll keep going at him.” Ryan walked in to try his best.

-

Mike didn't know how he fell asleep. The couch he had fallen asleep in the boat was stiff and small for him. The sounds of waves crashing and annoying birds woke him up quicker. The place he woke up in was shuttered, older. The new couch was musky and he was barely able to see faded white walls in the light from a slot in the boarded window. His hands were still tied, but there was a gauze pad over the graze for last night. At some point, his shirt had probably been stripped off to apply it. _That is wrong on many, many levels._

Checking to see if there was anything he could cut out with, and finding nothing, he moved to get out of the house. Outside, the waves became louder, and there was a wind cutting through the ensemble he had been given yesterday. He studied the layout and searched for any cars or places he could run. There was nothing remotely close. He moved around and saw in back of the building he had been kept was a lighthouse. _Fuck._

Joe had sneaked out behind him, holding a gun he acquired. “Morning, Michael,” he greeted, startling him. “Let's go back inside before you consider doing anything rash.” He waved the gun around and pulled him back, checking to make sure the area was still deserted.

He was forced back on the couch, while Joe went over to the fireplace and grabbed an orange pill bottle before taking a pill and dry-swallowing. “A lighthouse?” Mike questioned, “This is your finale?”

“It was meant more for Claire. Annabel Lee,” he said.

“Tomb by the sea,” he recited.

He smiled, “Very good.”

“Well, I did have to read Poe over and over and over again while doing my thesis on you,” he stated, “But isn't the lighthouse predictable?”

“It's fitting,” he argued lightly.

“Your book, one of Poe's favorite landscapes,” he pointed out, “Repetitive and predictable.”

“It's a motif. It bookends the story.” He was getting annoyed and slightly flustered at Mike poking fun at him. _Oh my god, no wonder that story failed when it first came out. Boring and predictable._ “Don't start. You haven't died yet, but that can always change.”

“How does that change?” he inquired, “How would the situation change that you would kill me?” 

“If you annoy me enough,” Joe warned. “Your temperament is provoking me greatly.”

“I'm sorry; would you like to be kidnapped a couple times and threatened a few more?” he mocked.

“How did I never see the parental relationship between the two of you before?” he mused, “It is quite clear now. You know, I've had enough of your attitude at the moment; I think you should have a time out.” He pulled Mike up and forced him over to a locked room, which he quickly unlocked and shoved him in before closing it.

He didn't even bother on trying to break the door down. If it was like the house, it was probably well built and heavy to move. “Just fucking great,” he muttered. He turned around, thinking about searching for a weapon when he saw someone on the other side of the room stand up. He backed away quickly before stopping himself. “Shit, announce yourself first, please.”

“Sorry,” the man apologized.

He calmed down a small bit. “What's your name?” he asked.

“Neil Meyer.”

“Mike Weston,” he introduced, “How did you get here?”

“Couple of kids hired me to bring up a boat from Newport.”

He saw him wince and carefully walked over to possibly help. “What happened?”

“I think they broke my ankle so I couldn't run,” he informed, then looked over at him. “What the hell is going on? Who are those people?”

“Well, the guy that just pushed me in here is Joe Carroll. The serial killer that said 'Gotta catch 'em all' for murderers and crazy people,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn't work, instead making him more fearful. “He's gonna kill us, isn't he?”

“I will do my very best to not let that happen,” he tried to reassure. Neil helped him out and undid the ropes around his wrists. “Thanks.”

“What can we do?”

“There's probably no place to run,” Mike noted, “Outside was barren. I barely even saw a road. Our best chance might be knocking Carroll out and subduing him. He probably has a phone or a way out.”

He nodded in agreement, “There's really nothing that can be used. Unless you can get those off.” He motioned over to the boarded up windows.

Mike went over to the window and started trying to rip off a board. Neil limped over to help him and they pulled in unison, but still weren't able to wretch it off. “Damn cult choosing well-built places,” he cursed. Then he saw him wincing. “You should sit down.”

“No, you said you couldn't see anything, but we could still get you out of here, so you can get help.”

He should argue that he doesn't need help, he's an FBI agent, but he's unarmed and doesn't even have his badge. Then the door unlocked and Joe was standing in the way. “Come here, Michael.”

“Why?”

“I'm lonely. In here.” Wary, he walked over and felt an arm encircle him. He forced himself not to shudder, wrapping his arms and gripping them. “Oh, dear. Would you mind handing me the rope you got off of him?” he asked Neil. He grabbed it from him. “Thank you.” He shut the door and forced him over to a chair near the fireplace. “Hands.” He glared and put his wrists together before holding them out. “For future preference, it would be easier if you just kept this on.” He tied it tightly before standing back up.

“Why is he here?” Mike asked. Joe glanced at him. “It doesn't make sense if it was supposed to be Claire, you and Ry-” Joe stared at him before he changed the last word. “Dad.”

“He brought something for me.”

“And in return, you'll let him live?” he prompted.

“Let him live? Now why would I do that?” he inquired.

“I would say loyalty, but I don't think you value that very much.”

“Oh, I value it. Quite readily,” he stated.

“Then what happened to Roderick?”

This was the wrong topic to stray on. And one he was quite ready to get off. “Perhaps I should kill the man,” he decided, moving over to the door, “He has no use anymore.”

“No!” Mike shouted, trying to run into him. Joe grabbed his wound and squeezed, before throwing him into the wall and placing the gun under his chin.

“Why do you care?” he grumbled.

“Nobody should die just because someone declares them useless,” he argued. He remembered the words Joe threw at Ryan when he held him captive. He thought it was fun to just destroy lives. He didn't think his argument worked, but the man threw him back in the chair. “What happens if he can't come?”

“Why wouldn't he? His only child, at the hands of his greatest enemy.”

“The FBI won't let him,” he answered. It was quite a simple idea, an agent was always prepared to give their life for the job. A former FBI agent and now civilian wouldn't be allowed to go after him. He was an acceptable loss.

“Oh, I'm sure he'll find a way around that. There must be a few people that would help him out to get you back,” he assured, sitting down in the chair across from him. “Now, I'm curious. Someone got a hold of your thesis and it was quite an interesting read. I would like to discuss it more.”

Mike quelled any nasty thoughts. _Gotta stay alive. Keep Neil alive._ “What sections?” he inquired.

Joe smiled, perfectly happy to pick his brain.

-

They went at him for ninety minutes, going back and forth between Parker and Ryan. Sometimes, they would get singular words or small sentences. Nothing helped them figure out what was supposed to happen to her after they grabbed her from the community center.

Turner came up with bad news. “The FBI wants to transfer him to DC. Take a crack at him,” he informed.

“He's the only one that knows what the next part is,” Parker said, outraged.

“We let go of him now; we won't be able to get Mike back,” Ryan argued.

“I'm just the messenger,” he backed away.

“When are they taking him?” she asked. Two agents walked in and made sure the man was fully restrained before forcing him out. “No warning?”

Unable to do anything near the interrogation rooms, they walked to the main data room. Most people were working hard to try and figure out the rest of the followers, and trying to find their missing agent. “Annabel Lee,” Parker muttered, bringing up the original poem. If they could figure out what Joe had planned for their face-off, they might be able to narrow a location that suited his needs.

Ryan was wallowing in melancholy. He was watching out the window, unable to do anything. Joe had him as this hero, and he couldn't do a damn thing because they screwed up his plan. He was just gazing around, and backed up from the window when he saw the person in a Poe mask walking up. “What the hell?” he muttered, walking out with several people following behind.

She stopped him before he approached. “It's probably a kid,” she figured. She walked up. “Hi. I'm Agent Parker. Do you mind taking off the mask so we can see your face?” It turned out to be a young man after the mask was completely gone. “Thank you. What's your name?”

“Jack Foster.”

“All right, Jack, do you mind telling me where you got that?”

“A lady gave it to me.”

“What was her name?”

“Emma.” Turner started directing people out to find Emma Hill. Ryan watched, disinterested. _She's probably already gone._ “She gave me twenty dollars to put this on and come over here.”

“Do you mind if we take that?” He shook his head and handed it over. “Thank you. Would you please talk to this agent, just to make sure we have the details correct for our report?” He walked in after someone.

Ryan took the mask and started looking it over. Written inside the mask were a series of numbers. “What the hell is this?”

She looked along side. “I think.... map coordinates. Degrees, then minutes.” Ryan walked inside with the mask. He handed it to Mitchell and told her Parker's suggestion. She entered it in and came up with a point within the Cedarville State Forest. She looked over at him, saying, “I'll tell Turner; we'll head out now.”

The older woman didn't know what they were planning for her in the forest. She focused on getting there rather than pondering many of the stories Joe could have selected for her. Turner and several agents were out first, scouring the area. Even from the small dirt road, she was able to see the hole in the ground, and to the coffin settled inside. “Buried alive,” she whispered, “Oh, god.”

“Fuck,” Ryan hissed. He stared at it for a minute before looking for anything that Joe would have placed inside. He flipped the lid, thinking of pen marks or notes. She checked the actual coffin, pulling back the blanket. She picked up the envelope and checked inside it. Along with a transcript of Joe's book was Mike's wallet.

“Here,” she handed over, staring at his wallet. He took the book and started reading it. “Anything interesting?”

“I was supposed to get to you too late. Alex was supposed to shoot Turner dead when we were lead to the car they used,” he mentioned.

“What else?” she pushed. He wouldn't answer her, and she looked over at him. “What else was supposed to happen?” He was keeping himself silent just as Turner walked over. “Ryan!”

“Nothing,” he lied, walking away to the cars.

“Ryan! Don't you dare cut me out,” she hissed. She grabbed him and spun him around. “You do not get to do this alone.”

“I have to! He wants you dead; he wants everyone close to me dead.”

She wasn't sure if he was going to agree to what she had planned. “You don't get to do this alone,” she told him. “But you will go alone. Turner...” She turned to the Marshal. “Do we have any trackers we can plant on him?”

-

Joe and Mike had been discussing his thesis for two hours, going back and forth between victimology and technique along with motives and triggers. “Now, your thesis is how you were selected for the case,” he led, thinking like this was a lecture hall, and Mike was a student. “They brought in your father when I had escaped. What happened, the first time the two of you met again? Did he know?”

He shook his head. “No, Dad walked in when I was going over the basics with agents, marshals, anyone that was to be involved in the case. He was surprised. He knew I had gone into the FBI, but he didn't know about my thesis, or my entry into the BAU,” he explained.

“Ahh and did you actually make a mistake when explaining my motives?” he questioned.

_Fuck, he had someone within that._ “People were questioning whether or not to include him. Why do you need the ex-FBI agent when you've got a current one that knows everything?” he laid out.

“So you made the mistake for your father to correct.”

“To show them he was still needed on the case,” Mike echoed. 

Joe nodded, agreeing with him on the course of action. “How many years had it been since you two last met?” he questioned.

“Last time I saw him was right after your arrest,” he whispered, looking down at his feet and fidgeting. “When he was in the hospital.”

“Close to ten years,” he pondered, “He never went to your graduations? High school? University?”

“High school was during your trial,” Mike said. “The other two, he was....”

“Drinking,” Joe completed.

“Losing control,” he differed, protective. “He wasn't exactly a fan when I told him about the FBI.”

Joe smirked. “Well, it wasn't surprising, considering they fired him after my arrest. How does your mother feel about you being in the FBI?”

_Does he know? Or is he trying to figure out who she is?_ “Conflicted,” he simplified.

“Because of Ryan's career?” he asked.

_Both of theirs._ “Part of it.”

“They're worried about you.”

“Yeah.”

“Has anything ever happened due to your father's work?” _I'm surprised you didn't research when you find out after you learned of us._ He only raised an eyebrow. _You mean approximately like when you stabbed him or if anything happened to me._ “Idiotic question? I was referring to instances outside of the case.”

“Yes,” he answered to both.

“Elaborate,” he motioned.

“On how you're an idiot?” he inquired, sounding entirely too innocent.

He frowned, “Not clever.”

_Not supposed to piss him off. Not supposed to piss him off. I can't pull this off like Dad can._ “Only one incident,” he revealed.

“Oh?”

“Case that Dad was working on. Suspects kidnapped me so they could get out of the country. It failed,” he condensed.

Joe pondered, “Your father found you, rescued you.” He just nodded in agreement. “I hope he can do that again for you this time.”

Mike didn't want to know what his plan was if Ryan couldn't come. He did not want to wonder about a captivity with Joe Carroll. Thankfully, he didn't have to think that when there was a knock at the front door. Mike was pulled up and forced back to the room.

Neil, whose ankle was getting worse, asked, “What's going on?”

“I don't know,” he answered, “Someone's arrived, probably someone from his cult.”

“Why?”

“I don't know,” he repeated. _Maybe Dad's here._ They didn't have to wait long, as Joe opened the door with two people behind him. _Emma Hill._ The two others took Neil away to his pleads of letting him live while Mike was held back. After they left, he was brought back outside.

The couch was now occupied by an unconscious, bound Ryan Hardy. “Dad?” he breathed, wanting to check and make sure he was okay. Joe pulled him back and pushed him in the chair.

“He's fine, still alive,” he confirmed. He pulled out a crushed piece of electronic equipment. “Sneaky little shit, he had a tracker on him.” Mike couldn't believe that. _That's not the type of thing Turner would think of. Mom?_ Then, they waited for him to wake up. The waning day finally turned to night, and still Ryan wasn't stirring.

“What did they do?” he argued, looking over at him.

He frowned. Apparently, he was worried as well about the long sleep. “Sedated.” Mike looked at him, angry. “They know the proper protocols, what to do, what to give. Research has been done for your father's conditions.”

“Are any of them actual medical professionals?” he questioned. _Oh, why did I ask that? Please don't answer yes._

“Roderick would have known,” he dismissed.

“You had non-medically trained people giving him taser shocks and sedatives,” he accused, “How the hell did you know they wouldn't kill him?”

Joe didn't liked the accusation. He forgot his gun and went for the attack he was used to and gain back control. His hand shot out and grabbed Mike's neck, increasing pressure until he was barely able to get air in. He immediately reached up to grip the arm, trying to fight against it. “He will be fine,” he growled, “Do not question me.” He tightened to the point where everything was cut off, enjoying the struggling before letting go. Mike coughed, bending over with the force. Once he had some resemblance back of normal breathing; he touched his neck, wincing at the pain. Joe pulled him back up. He didn't say anything else, and the other man was quite happy to lapse into silence.

It was a little while longer before Ryan started showing signs of waking up. He was groggy still, and didn't move for a couple of minutes. Joe was growing impatient. “You're awake, finally,” he stated, “We've been waiting with such bated breath.” He saw Mike sitting in the chair, and moved to get to him. He fell to the floor. “Sit down, Ryan!” He forced himself back up and on the couch. “I'm going to need you to be a lot less combative.”

He looked over at Mike. “You okay?” He nodded.

“I knew you'd turn up. He actually had doubts,” he injected. “You found the book. Of course, you would have noticed the final chapter is missing. That's because we are writing it now. You and I. How's it going to end, Ryan?”

“With you dead or in jail,” Mike muttered.

Ryan refused to smile. “My hands are tied, Joe. Doesn't quite make for a fair fight.”

“I have been stabbed with both a knife and a fork. I don't think there will be more fighting.” He waved the gun a little too much for either of their comforts. “This, this was supposed to go completely different. It was supposed to be between Claire, you and I, but he screwed that up.” He pointed the gun at Mike, which made Ryan wary. “Yes, I was supposed to have a nice conversation with her.”

“Doubt it,” Mike contributed.

“And this was supposed to be about her choice in men, her bad picker. Damaged souls, you and I are.”

“Then what would my part have been?” Ryan asked, before Mike could get in a shot.

Joe sat down across from him. “You would have had to been completely honest. Can you be?” he insisted.

“Yeah, got it.”

“Right,” he smiled, “When did you fall in love with my wife?”

He answered, “I don't know.”

“When you first met her, Ryan. Love at first sight, that is the acceptable answer. It starts as an attraction but later, we're able to look back on it and know that we always knew. Yes, it's much how I regard you and I as a matter of fact, love at first sight. You have to admit, we're connected.”

“No.”

“Yes! Both of us were with Claire. Both a son.”

“But not with Claire,” Mike butted in.

Joe frowned, but turned his attention back to Ryan. “You have yet to reflect. So tell me, on this night of truth, when did you realize that I was the killer?”

He said, “I started following you.”

“No, Ryan, you didn't follow me. No, you followed Claire,” he argued.

“I followed her to see if she would lead me to you,” he stated.

“And then you fell in love with her,” he led.

“Yeah,” Ryan admitted.

He nodded, getting the answer he wanted. “I had this plan on killing Claire, to complete your death curse,” he explained, switching to a pick that had been on the mantle, “I would have murdered her the same way I did the girls. But I cannot do that thanks to someone.”

Angry, he took a hold of Mike's head, placing the pick close to his right eye. “I believe this would be a nice retaliation,” he posed.

He looked fearfully at the pick. “No!” Ryan yelled, moving closer.

Joe switched the pick from his eye to his throat, aiming it at the side. “Get back, Ryan. The eye wasn't fatal, this will be,” he ordered.

He needed the attention off of Mike. Parker was coming. He just had to hold out. “It's predictable. Killing the hostage, leaving me alive. You need to kill me,” he insisted.

“Dad,” Mike wavered.

“No one will suspect it. Killing your hero is an unexpected surprise ending.”

He shook his head. “No, no, he should die, as part of your death curse,” he delivered.

“It won't work. People would hate that, the villain killing the son of the hero. It's overkill; it'll destroy the story.” The pick was still hovering dangerously close to his neck, but Joe was paying attention to Ryan. “It'll reek, but then you don't know good writing, do you? That's why you're a teacher. Those that can, do, and those that can't, teach.”

“Ryan,” he warned, just starting to dig the pick in.

“Second-rate, no talent, wannabe. Pretentious, overwrought, flop. I'm bored with you. I'm sick of you and Edgar Allen Poe. What a trumped up piece of nothing talent he was. Loser morphine addict, and just as pathetic as you.”

He wasn't sure which one to go after, and Ryan used it to his advantage. He rushed him, knocking him away from Mike and getting rid of the pick. He had to delay him from getting his advantage back. He pushed him away from the fireplace, and the gun. Mike went after him next, using his bound hands and hitting his injury. Joe yelled, and threw his attacker away. Ryan got a hold of the gun, and shot at him a couple of times. The man ran out of the house....

And straight into Turner and Parker. “Get on the ground, Carroll!” she commanded, pointing her gun at him.

“Fuck,” he cursed, before two agents and several marshals gathered around to force him down and handcuff him.

“Joseph Carroll, you're under arrest,” she stated. She had to continue, but she just wanted to get inside and check on Mike.

Turner felt her anxiety. “Go, I'll finish here,” he told her. She gave him a nod and headed inside to Turner reciting his various crimes and Miranda rights before escorting him to a secure medical vehicle.

Ryan was hovering over Mike. Both had gotten off their ropes with the pick. The older man was checking a mark on his neck. “Thank god,” she muttered, walking over and hugging him.

“Mom,” he uttered, returning the hug. “He said he had you in some kind of predicament.”

She laughed, slightly wet, “I got saved from that fate thanks to your father. It wasn't good.” She allowed herself a couple of more seconds before Turner was clearing his throat from the doorway. “Right.” She touched the new mark on his neck before pulling away. “There's a bus outside; we weren't sure how bad it was going to be.”

Ryan started ushering him out. “There was another guy. Neil Meyer, it sounds like a couple of followers had him brought up here,” Mike mentioned them.

“We'll check around for him.” They flanked him over to the bus. Parker was called away to start going through the property, having everywhere checked for followers and evidence.

Ryan was quickly checked over, declared reasonably fit before they attended to Mike. The neck wound wasn't even bleeding. His forehead had to be cleaned. An ill-timed wince had him exposing the graze he sustained last night. After it was checked and re-bandaged, along with extra instructions on a doctor's visit, the medic left them alone and went around to the front to give them privacy. Mike had taken off the top, heavier shirt, leaving him with nothing but a tee. “Too cold,” he complained, rubbing his arms.

He took off his outer coat, the one that surprisingly survived Emma, and wrapped it around him. One of the agents, sent over by Parker, handed over a set of keys and pointed them out to a rental they could sit in. Neither was being allowed to leave, but they could sit in a parked car so they wouldn't have to freeze. Ryan turned on the engine for a little extra heat before joining Mike in the back. “Any reason you're not sitting up front?” he asked, sliding in next to him.

“How many know?” he inquired, looking a little afraid of the answer.

“Turner has his suspicions. Mitchell, too.”

He sighed in relief. “I don't think Joe knows about Mom. He might have been fishing for it.” He slumped against Ryan, turning his head so it was buried in his shoulder. The older man wrapped an arm around him, bringing him in closer for an awkward hug. There were a few tears, frustration, fear and anxiety bleeding out as he relaxed.

Parker was finally able to get away from the agents and check on them a half-hour later. Mike had fallen asleep, moved closer so his head fit under his father's and a hand clutched his shirt. Ryan was slightly curled around him, unconsciously protecting him. “Hey,” she whispered, grabbing the man's attention. “You're wasting my gas.”

He hummed, “Cold.”

“Are you warmed up now?”

“Not me,” he explained. “How long are we stuck here?”

“A while. We're right now doing everything we can without needing to talk to Mike. That might end within the hour.”

He nodded, annoyed but knowing it was necessary. “He needs something to wear. I want my coat back.” She snorted and slid back out. “I actually mean that.”

“I doubt anyone is his size, but I'll try.”

“Thank you,” he muttered, drifting off thanks to the leftover chemical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on Aftermath for the original story. It's slow. RPing takes up my attention a little too much. That and for tonight into late Friday, I won't have a computer to type at.
> 
> Oh well, I have a trope bingo story I need to work on.


	4. An Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ending for the AU season one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's tiny, but it leaves everything open.

Claire was nervous. The debriefings for the Joe Carroll case had been hard on all of them. The only bright spot was getting several alive members that would be able to identify more of the followers, along with Joe himself. They were still in protective custody, although it was a little more lenient this time around, to accommodate Joey's school schedule.

They also had to approve this trip, which she was nervous about. They had wanted to go out to a local park, but the marshals vetoed it. Instead, they were setting up in Ryan's apartment for the afternoon. When she realized his former girlfriend and son were going to be there, she had to prepare herself mentally. She had known the other two as agents first, then found out about their connection to Ryan. Throughout the debriefings, she found out about his son's kidnapping to get her location, Agent Parker's attempted death by premature burial.

The marshals at the door alerted them and they walked upstairs to see Ryan already waiting. “Debra won't allow me to cook anything. We were going to wait to see what you wanted on a pizza before ordering from a nearby location approved by them,” he informed.

“Pepperoni and sausage,” Joey noted.

“Got it. Also, Drake's running around.”

“Drake?” Claire asked. Her question was answered by a terrier mix walking out into the hall and sniffing at the newcomers.

“Dad! Don't let him get too far,” Mike urged, running to the door. He stopped when he saw Drake getting attention from Joey. He waved at Claire. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she laughed. “Joey, let's go inside.” Her son managed to get the dog back in, who rushed back to a small pile of toys and grabbing a rope and rushing back to Joey for a tug of war game.

Debra hadn't looked up at the pair, but she did when Claire sat over on the couch. “Hello,” she greeted.

“Hi,” she replied, feeling anxious.

The other woman picked up on it. “Don't worry, we're safe here and I won't do anything,” she stated. Mike sat down next to her legs. Drake was having fun with Joey and he grabbed his phone to play games. The rest of afternoon went peacefully.

-

The phone that one of the nurses had smuggled in started to signal there was a call.

Joe Carroll was in solitary, a requiem due to his actions. The guards had all been vetted and couldn't be bribed or threatened by any of his remaining friends. The nurse that had to take care of his physical was however, a persuaded individual and liked him and helped him get a few things that he shouldn't normally be given.

Turning his back on the guards, and the camera, he carefully answered, “What is there to report, Emma?”

“Claire and Joey met with Ryan today. Weston and Parker were there as well,” she reported.

“Michael, I understand, but why....” he pondered, before his mind placed the pieces together. “Agent Parker. I want you to test whether she is the biological mother of Michael.”

“Yes, Joe.” The call ended.

Hiding it again, he lied down on his cot, thinking about the repercussions of the three of them working on his case. He wondered if everything could be declared void.

He might be able to get a few rights back, soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this AU version.

**Author's Note:**

> This probably counts for the inspired by another work box, but it's my own work.


End file.
